Unattainable Destiny
by pyrorbl
Summary: Legend of Basara: Pre-series fic, Shuri angsting over his feelings for the Red King and his destiny.


**Unattainable Destiny**

Written by Pyro Rebel. This is a Legend of Basara fanfic I started writing several months ago. I finally finished it, after letting it just sit because I couldn't think of a way to end it. I'm not really happy with it; I was experimenting with a new style, and while the fic is technically good, it doesn't flow naturally. It isn't _me_, in other words. Anyway, it's a pre-series fic about Shido angsting over Shuri. Feedback's always appeciated, of course, even for a flop like this. ;P

**Disclaimer:** Legend of Basara and its characters are not mine; I'm just doing this for fun, and the only profit I get is that of releasing my creativity.

* * *

He is not a man who dreams, Shido tells himself. The Red King is too practical for such a thing. He would consider it a waste of his mind's energy to think of fantastical things while he sleeps. No, Shido assures himself, his Lord certainly does not dream. Shuri does not think about things which are beyond his grasp.  
Instead it is his second, his trusted friend, who paces the halls of the Suou palace late at night, woken by his traitorous mind. He never remembers exactly what he dreams of, only that they are things better left buried. Growing up with Shuri, Shido knows better than anyone what can alienate him from his liege. Thus he has learned to bury his feelings, to ignore the thoughts of what is beyond his reach. It is only on nights like these, when his subconscience refuses to be stifled anymore, that his normal calm eludes him.  
Shido stalks through the castle, a tormented red-and-gold demon. During the day he may be able to suppress himself, but at night he cannot escape his dreams. He can only writhe in bed, visions of what he cannot have playing through his mind. And in the darkest hours of the morning, all he can do is compose himself and prepare to face another day.

In his rounds, he pauses to glance at the sky. The waxing moon is framed perfectly between two columns, and the pale light glints off a silver ring on Shido's finger. His engagement ring. The memory of the day before, of the betrothal, rises to his mind. It must be that, the feeling of finality, that has caused his dreams to be unusually vivid tonight, he thinks. Because now there is no going back. He is happy, in a way. Princess Senju is beautiful, and he does love her. With this ring, though, what he truly desires is forever denied him. For a brief moment he considers throwing it away, watching it fall to earth like a dying star. The gesture would be futile, though. Even were he freed from his engagement, he could no more easily grasp what he longs for than to capture the silvery moon. Disgusted at himself, he returns to his chambers. The night can only add to his misery, and he would rather suffer alone.

The next day passes easily, filled with the normal meetings, practice, and politicking. The only difference is the weight on his finger, reminding him that he belongs to someone else now. If his smile is strained, or if his eyes are more attentive on Shuri than usual, no one remarks on it. After all, he is a newly engaged man, leaving for Kyushu the next day. No doubt he merely regrets leaving Suou so soon, especially with the rumors of rebellion increasing.  
Every time he looks at the Red King, Shido has misgivings. As governor of Kyushu, he must return to keep order. He cannot help but feel, though, that something will happen when he is away. The Red King has numerous enemies, who could strike any time, but it is nothing known that discomforts him. Instead he feels that in his absence, the wheels of fate will begin turning. He knows of the prophecy concerning the Child of Fate. Perhaps the time is coming when Shuri will face his brothers and father. Or perhaps there is something else... Memories of another prophecy flit through his mind, too quickly to grasp. Frustrated, he tries to ignore the feeling of impending danger. He has had practice in pushing his emotions away before. This time, however, the discomfort will not be ignored. Shido wonders if he'll ever see the city again.

That night, a chill wind blows. In his sleep Shido twists in his sheets, hearing the promise of revenge and revolution in the air. And he dreams.

He dreams of rain.  
He dreams of a sparrow flying into his arms, crying of her fear and love for him. As he comforts her, Senju's rain-drenched clothes dampen his. Her normally curly hair is pulled straight, soaked by the summer storm. Her eyelashes, though, are not weighed down by raindrops, but by her tears as she gazes worriedly at him. She tells him that she dreams of blood, that she sees his impending death. He holds her tight and allows her to weep. He knows he faces an unknown foe, that soon he may lie in a pool of his own blood. He does not fear death, though. His king needs him, and for his sake he would gladly give up his life.  
For the princess's sake, though, he will live on. He has sworn to stand by her side, to be with her through all things. He swore that he would be hers til death divided them; she has sworn she cannot live without her lord Shido. For her life, then, he will not hesitate before his enemies. He will come home, into Senju's arms.  
He loves her, of course. He would not marry her simply for duty. She is the closest thing the country has to a princess, and she is his. It is as a princess, the delicate woman, that he loves her. She is a prized bird, to be gently held and protected at all costs. He loves her as only a man can love a woman, as only a husband can love his wife.  
He loves her -   
-but he does not burn for her.

He dreams of fire.  
He dreams of a phoenix, scorching the desert sands and setting the country aflame. The bird resolves into Shuri, the proud young man sweeping his red cape back as he approaches his best friend. His black hair is windblown, dark as the desert night. His eyes are filled with flame as he drinks in all that is his kingdom, fixing at last on Shido. Shuri tells him that he dreams of blood, that he sees the death of all his foes. He offers his hand, and Shido grasps it, soaring over the burning landscape with his cousin. He knows the task ahead of them is great, that soon he will be covered in the blood of their enemies. He does not fear killing, though. His king needs him, and for his sake he take the lives of innocents.  
For his lord's sake, though, he will guard this land. He has sworn to stand by Shuri's side, to help him build the green country they have always dreamt of. He swore he would serve the Red King til death divided them; Shuri has sworn he cannot succeed without his best friend. For his dream - _their_ dream - then, Shido will one day retire his blade. He will make a home, a rich green country fit for his king.  
He loves him, of course. He would not serve him this much simply for duty. Shuri is the closest thing the country has to a savior, and he is Shido's lord. It is not simply as a king that he loves him, though. He is a feared ruler, to be admired and obeyed at all costs. He is also a dear cousin, to be proud and protective of at all times. And he is a distant love, to be watched and dreamt of in all places. He loves him as only a man can love a man, as only a subject can love his king.  
He burns for him -   
-but he cannot have him.

Outside it begins to storm. The desert drinks the rain greedily, and in the morning the parched land will flower. Now, though, the city shudders under it, the thunder booming like a righteous god. The lightning starkly illuminates the buildings, exposing every decrepit corner and wasteful extravagance. The temperature turns cold, the icy wind trailing down Shido's back. It's almost a loverly caress, except it holds the promise of upheaval in the days ahead.

Shido shudders in his sleep, trying to escape the cold. The storm grips his mind, though, and in his dreams - 

He dreams of green.  
He dreams of a white tiger, standing fearlessly in an endless field. It sees him and paces restlessly, challenging his presence. Shido reaches for his sword, finding its reassuring weight at his side. He walks forward, unsure how to treat it. It is a beautiful creature and takes pride in its territory, almost like it created this haven they stand in. There is an undeniable feeling of danger emanating from it, though, and Shido's instincts cry out that it is his enemy. Drawing his sword, he approaches it. Its eyes are filled with hatred, and it tenses as he closes in. It leaps at him, and he dodges, swinging his sword around. He catches its ribcage with the flat of his sword, and the beast tumbles once before regaining its footing. It circles him before lunging to attack, swiping his right leg with its claws. His stance falters but he continues fighting, knowing somehow he must defeat this creature. They continue their deadly dance, the scent of crushed grass and flowers overtaken by the stench of blood and sweat as they battle.   
They pause in their fighting, each panting heavily. For a brief moment, Shido wonders what purpose there is in this combat. This place is what Shuri and he have been trying to build; this tiger seems to be protecting it. If they could come to an understanding, if they could work together - A breeze springs up, cooling the sweat on his forehead. In that gentle touch, though, the thoughts of the white tiger are carried. _Kill the Red King,_ it thinks, _Crush the Red Army. Wipe it all away. Destroy everything._ His eyes widen in shock at the bloodlust in the tiger's mental voice. It is fixated on the Red King, myriad deaths planned for him. Shido's vision clouds with red, his own blood rising in response to the threat before him. He must destroy it; he will destroy anything that threatens the man he serves.  
"Prepare yourself!" he yells, the first and only words spoken in this dream-that-is-not-a-dream. With that, he charges.  
The tiger makes a move to avoid him, but it is a fraction too slow. Shido's blade catches its hind leg, breaking the ankle. It does not howl, though, instead managing to defend itself with its front paws. He continues swinging his sword, to the left, then the right, then a sudden swing from above. The creature tires, favoring its injured leg while still defending itself. It pants desperately, clinging to life in a battlefield suddenly the shade of the desert.  
Taking a risk, on his next circling of the tiger he swings his blade at its forelegs. When it rises up to swipe at him, he uses his foot to knock the other rear leg out from under it. The beast, its fur stained with blood, falls to the ground, lying helplessly on its back. Shido grasps his sword vertically over its heart, ready to end this threat to his king.

He hesitates.

The white tiger, so proud at the beginning of all this, is now lying beneath him, pathetic and broken. It is not that, though, that gives him pause. Instead its eyes - they are as tired as the now dusty land around them. Only regret and that all-encompassing weariness shine in them, purged of the bloodlust that brought it to this point. Shido pauses, not knowing why either of them are here in the first place.  
_The wheels of fate,_ it whispers in his mind. _They move, and neither you nor I can stop them._  
_Then,_ he thinks to it, _we must be enemies? Is this all we can hope for, all that waits for us?_ _You think you can fight destiny?_ it asks, incredulous.  
_Our lives are our own! I choose my own fate!_ He feels it, though, the black pit of destiny pulling him down against his will.  
It knows what he is feeling. _By fighting your fate,_ it responds, _you hasten its arrival._  
Then it lunges at him.

He sits up in bed, eyes wide with shock and fright. Shivering in the cold, he gathers his sheets around him, waiting for his pulse to slow. When he can breathe, when he is certain he is alive, he rises to shut the balcony doors, cursing whoever left them unlatched. At the threshold, he pauses. Across the courtyard he can see them, though if they are laughing or speaking he cannot hear them over the voice of the storm. Even in the deep night, the crimson cape and regal stance are unmistakable. A girl is huddled under Shuri's cape, ducking from the rain. The Red King is laughing, rain pelting his face as they hurry toward shelter. The fierceness of the storm pleases him, and his grip around the girl tightens. Shido's lips press together, and he slams the doors shut.  
He feels a chill caress against his skin, a ghost of the icy wind. In his mind he hears the byakko. _How can you protect him when you can't even be near him?_  
_Because,_ he thinks, answering himself more than the beast stalking his mind, _from here I can see he is safe. If I am near him, all I can see is him. I will blind myself, and fail him._  
It laughs in his mind. _You will fail him anyway. You cannot avoid your fate._  
He ignores the voice, watching silently as Shuri disappears into his chambers.  
With the storm shut out, his room is quiet, and Shido returns to his bed to try to sleep. As he lays staring at the ceiling, though, he cannot help but think that Shuri's cape, drenched over his lord's body, looked like a cloak of blood.


End file.
